


Grapevine

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: ;), Because Source Material, Canon Compliant, Fitzsimmons Week, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Gossip, Missing Scene, Or as Hunter likes to call it, The Hot Goss, also some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set between 2x11 and 2x19. When Fitz and Skye decide to hide her new powers from the team, Hunter suspects that they're hiding something completely different. So, he goes to the source to investigate.</p><p>(Well, technically, Simmons is source-adjacent.)</p><p>[For FitzSimmons Week, Day 6: Games]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Simmons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you haven't got anything nice to say about anybody, come sit next to me."
> 
> -Alice Roosevelt Longworth

Fitz felt a tug on his shirt before he realized that it was Skye who was pulling him out of the hallway and into a dark corner of the Playground.

"What's, what's wrong? Are, are you . . ."

"I'm fine, Fitz," she whispered with a huff. "Or at least, I hope I will be when you get those test results back."

Fitz put a hand on each of Skye's shoulders, taking in a breath to steady himself. "That's going to take time, but I'm, uh, I'm working on it. Okay?"

 

Hunter nodded towards the pair. "Looks like someone's moving on." He watched for a second, seeing only Fitz's hand on what seemed to be Skye's shoulder. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed the way Fitz's thumb moved back and forth across her exposed skin. And did she just lean forward?

Mack shook his head. "I don't know, man. From what I hear, what happened to him isn't something you get over easily."

"Well," said Hunter, a mischievous grin on his lips, "there's only one person who could say, really."

Mack responded with a cold stare, but Hunter only took a swig of beer as he stalked off in the general direction of the lab.

* * *

"'ello Doctor!" Hunter greeted, not letting his smile waver, even when Simmons looked up from a microscope and sent him a withering glare.

"I've asked you not to call me that," she said. She pulled her gloves off and turned her back on him as she headed for the waste bin.

"Well, you  _are_  a doctor. I'm showing respect."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, but I don't like the way you say it. And isn't it a little early to be drinking?"

"Never too early," Hunter answered, taking a sip to prove his point. "Besides, I'm off duty."

"If you're off duty, then why are you bothering me?"

He noticed the way she'd rather watch the floor than look up at him, and his smile widened.

"You know, Simmons, I may only be a lowly mercenary, but for now, at least, I am a part of your team. And as such, I thought it would be wrong of me to leave you out of all the Playground gossip.

Her gaze fixed on his. "Gossip."

Hunter nodded. "It seems that two of our fellow agents are engaging in clandestine meetings."

At that, she almost dropped a test tube, and Hunter had to suppress a snort.

"Clandestine?"

"Uh huh. Just a few minutes ago, as a matter of fact, I saw a certain lady pull a certain gentleman into a particularly dark corner. Seems like it's become something of a regular occurrence."

He quite enjoyed the way her face lit up, and watching her gears turn was a pleasure all its own.

"Who-who is it? You have to tell me."

"Ah," he said, holding up a finger, "no I don't, actually. I mean, I will, but only because I am a very nice person. Only thing is, you'll have to guess."

Her face fell, and she folded her arms in defiance. "Well, if you're not going to tell me, then I suppose I should get back to work."

"Oh, don't be like that, Simmons! C'mon, I'll give you a hint."

She narrowed her gaze at him, as if trying to divine some hidden agenda.

"Fine. I'll bite."

"Well," he teased, "they're friends of yours. Good friends, I believe."

He thought that clue would have given it away (after all, did she have more than two friends?), but she seemed even more puzzled.

"It's not . . ." She paused, pursing her lips. "It's not Coulson and M—"

"Coulson?" He furrowed his brow at her. "No, it's not Coulson." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Coulson? Seriously? That was your first guess? You think somebody is just taking the director by the elbow and—no, now I've got an image. Look what you've done." He shook his head. " _Coulson_."

Simmons appeared nonplussed. "Well, if it's not Coulson—"

"It isn't!"

"Then maybe it's, um, Carré and Young?"

"Who?"

"Okay," Simmons said, as if to to calm herself, "if it's not them, then who is it? Markson and—"

"Ugh," Hunter sighed, rubbing his temple, "it's Fitz and Skye, okay? Fitz and Skye. And stop guessing; you're embarrassing yourself."

Simmons blinked at him. "Fitz and Skye? M-our Fitz?" She swallows. "And Skye?"

"Yes, love. Miss Agent-for-a-Day and Mister Fits-and-Starts. Who else would I be talking about?"

He watched Simmons open her mouth, then close it again. "I guess I don't know." She paused, her mouth hanging open, her eyes staring off in the distance. "And you shouldn't speak of Fitz that way."

"Yeah? Why, because he's under your protection?"

Simmons balked at him. "No. It's just, he's had an injury, and it's not right for you to—"

"Okay, okay. I take it back, alright?" He waits for Simmons to nod, then continues, "Good, well from what I can tell, this isn't their first little rendezvous. It looked a bit practiced to me."

He was about to continue, but paused when he heard Simmons laugh.

"What?"

"Practiced?" She let out a chuckle. "You think that Skye has become accustomed to . . . they're just friends, Hunter. Whatever is happening, I'm sure it's innocent."

He caught her gaze. "You sure about that, love?"

She paused a moment, as if considering his question, and Hunter didn't miss the way the corner of her mouth twitched.

"Yes, Hunter. I'm sure. Now, is that all? Some of us have work to do."

He looked her over one more time, trying to hold back a grin.

"Of course, I'll be out of your way. But I'll keep you updated. You know, if there are developments."

When she didn't respond, he took a final swig of beer and left her to her thoughts.

* * *

Fitz and Skye?

It was two days after Hunter's little revelation, and Jemma didn't have time to think about this. Being head of the science division, she'd learned, was a lot more work than she'd expected. She needed to check over the new arrivals from SciTech, and she had to make a decision on the new ICERS. She did not need to imagine what Fitz and Skye would be doing in secluded sections of the Playground. 

It just seemed so bizarre. He'd had a crush on her when she first joined the team, of course, but surely that hadn't resurfaced. Not after . . .

"I have an update!"

She rolled her eyes at Hunter's cheerful tone.

"I'm very busy just now."

"Well," he countered, "if I waited for a time when you weren't busy, I have a feeling that you'd never hear what I overheard Skye say about you."

Against her better judgement, she turned to face him. She tried to suppress the curiosity that was bubbling up in her chest, but instead she heard herself say, "Yes?"

"Well," Hunter answered, his words taking a conspiratorial tone, "I just so happened to be passing by Skye's bunk. And I distinctively heard Skye say, 'And you're sure that she doesn't suspect anything.'"

Jemma rolled her eyes. "What makes you think that she was talking about me?"

"Because then I heard Fitz say, 'I promise, Skye, Jemma has no idea.'" Hunter folded his arms. "That's you, right?"

Jemma felt a strange sensation that started in her stomach and ended with a clench in her heart.

"I don't . . . I don't want to talk about this."

She was able to avoid Hunter's gaze for a minute. But when he didn't say anything, she felt compelled to look back at him, finding an expression that almost looked . . . somber. It only lasted a moment before he shrugged and started rubbing his hands together.

"Well, in that case, I have other juicy tidbits that you might be interested in. You know that pair you mentioned earlier, Carré and Young?" He paused until Jemma nodded. "Well, I'm not sure which is Carré, and which is Young—"

She folded her arms. "One's a woman, and the other is a man."

Hunter shrugged. "That doesn't help much; all you scientists look the same. Anyway, I hear that one of them has been stealing the other one's yogurt from the community fridge."

"What?" Simmons was scandalized. "She has it flown in from Iceland! You know how French women are about their yogurt."

Hunter cocked his head at her. "No, I don't, actually. Though, I do know a lot about French women." Hunter's gaze seemed fixed on a distant horizon (though, there is no horizon in a bunker, really) and he took in a deep breath. "It was a cold, but beautiful night in Bordeaux, and Izzie and I had—"

"Hunter."

"Yes, love?" He shook his head, as if to break free from the images in he held there, and Simmons narrowed her gaze.

"I need to go back to work now, if you don't mind."

Hunter sighed. "If you say so, Doctor."

He managed to wink at her before scurrying off, and while a part of her wanted to smile at his exit, she felt worry bubble up inside of her. Why would Skye and Fitz hide something from her? 

And how on Earth was she supposed to resolve the Carré-and-Young situation without inciting a murder?

Being head of the science division was too much some days.

* * *

When he came out of Coulson's office, she was waiting there, smiling at him.

"Can I help you?"

Simmons gave a casual shrug. "Oh, it's nothing. It's just that I may have seen a certain mercenary stumbling out of a certain specialist's bunk last night. And when I was told I couldn't speak to Coulson until he was done with you, well, I had to see what exactly you had gotten yourself into." Her smile grew wider, until she looked like the cat that ate the canary. Two could play at that game.

"Well, if you must know, this has nothing to do with Bobbi."

Her smile faded. "Oh?"

"Coulson wanted to speak to me on quite a different matter." He couldn't help but puff out his chest, just a bit. "He made me an offer for a permanent position."

Simmons blinked at him. "Permanent?" When Hunter nodded, her brow furrowed. "So, you would be a specialist?"

Hunter couldn't hold back his smirk. "You should be happy about it. After all, if I left, who would tell you what's happening around here?"

Simmons seemed to consider this a moment, but when her expression darkened, he decided to save her from answering.

"Ah, well, I doubt I'm going anywhere soon. You know how it is when you've set up your bunk just right."

He was rewarded by a small, but genuine smile.

* * *

Simmons washed the small smear of Bobbi's blood off of her hands, feeling grateful that the attack from the Kree fugitive hadn't done too much damage. But before her hands were dry, she felt his presence at her elbow.

"Bobbi, she's okay? What happened"

Simmons turned to Hunter with a sigh. "You're sleeping with her. Why ask me?"

"Well, " said Hunter, holding up a finger, "first of all, Bobbi hates how I worry. I'm allowed to thank her for not dying, and that's it. Second," he held up another finger, "I have a little morsel for you in return."

She let out a second sigh after this, wondering if she even wanted to know. For a moment, earlier in the Bus, they were almost back to normal. Fitz had floundered on a word, she'd found it for him, and he'd actually thanked her. But the moment she'd told Coulson that she was doing her job, making sure that every SHIELD agent had access to the appropriate tech, Fitz had taken issue with the new ICER formula in development. Which, by itself, wasn't much to talk about, except for the way that Skye had sidled up to stand with him. The image of the two of them presenting a united, suspicious front made it difficult to meet Hunter's eyes.

"She's fine, Hunter," she answered, slipping past him and down the hallway, "it was just a few scrapes."

"Hey now," she heard him say, and he caught up to her in no time. "How did she hold her own against an alien?"

When she didn't respond, he grabbed her by the elbow and turned her to face him. One look into his searching eyes made her lose all resolve.

"She didn't. Bobbi said that she tried to engage with the, uh, the alien, and he managed to throw her across the room. Then everything started shaking, and when some shelves fell on her and Skye, the Kree ran away."

Hunter folded his arms and furrowed his brow. "She's okay, though. Even after an alien with ten times her strength threw her like a rag doll?"

Simmons shrugged. "They were lucky."

They stood in the hallways for a silent moment, and she knew why Hunter drew in deep breaths as he considered her words. 

"Well," he finally said, "thanks for the report. It's good to have the mole on the med team."

"Hey," she countered, swatting at him. "I'm not _on_  the med team; I'm the team captain."

He grave her a small smile. "Aye, aye, cap." He paused. "Okay, then. Time for your update on Agent-for-a-Day and—" He looked up, and she met his gaze with a silent challenge. "And Turbo," he amended.

"Turbo?"

Hunter shrugged. "That's what Mack calls him. I think it's quite fitting. Anyway, this morning, I just so happened to see a certain engineer scurrying out of the gym where a certain specialist-in-training was, well, training."

He seemed proud of himself, but Simmons was more relieved than impressed. "So he went to see her training? What of it?"

"You're right, Simmons," he said, and she rolled her eyes at his sarcasm, "why would a young man want to observe an attractive young lady while she's wearing yoga pants and, what's that word? Glowing?" Simmons huffed. "Besides, if it really is as innocent as you say, why did I find them having yet another covert meeting in the storage area?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What were they talking about?"

"Well," he answered, "well, she said something about being nervous, and he told her to wait until he could find a solution."

"A solution?" She considered it for a moment. "I have no idea what that could mean."

"Well, if you ask me—"

"I didn't."

Hunter sighed. "If you ask me, I say that Skye's worried that they'll be found out, and she's pressuring Fitz to go public. And Fitz, being a typical guy, is stalling for time."

She shook her head at him. "I really don't believe that Fitz and Skye . . . I mean, I know them. Fitz isn't even Skye's type, he's m-, I mean he's, uh, she likes men with well-developed biceps and superior physical strength. Fitz does not have those qualities."

"Hmm," said Hunter, looking her up and down, "so it's Skye's taste in men that's the issue here?"

Simmons swallowed. "Yes, of course it is."

There was something unnerving about the smile that reached his eyes. "Well, then," he said, "I suppose I don't have to remind you who it was that cracked the Great Yogurt Conspiracy wide open. My track record in this area is superb."

When he stalked off, Simmons had to lean against the wall and force herself to calm down.

* * *

Hunter stopped a moment to take a deep breath before rapping his knuckles against the door. 

"It's me," he said, before she could reject him, "it's Hunter."

He heard some shuffling before the door creaked open to reveal a Simmons he had never seen before. Gone was her smile, or even her glare, and instead he found a woman with a weak frown and red-rimmed eyes.

"I just, uh, I wanted to see if you were okay." He waved an awkward hand in the general direction of her shoulder, but never made contact. Mack, he thought, would be the one who would know how to handle this, not him. But considering the fact that her only other friends were not, in fact, having an illicit affair, he worried that if he didn't check on her, no one else would.

She gave him a smile that had the same strength as her frown, and shrugged.

"You were wrong," she said.

"Yeah," he admitted, "I'm sorry. Next time, I'll remember to factor in the possibility of hidden super powers." He hoped that would cheer her up a bit, but no luck. It broke his heart a little, to see her this way. She was, after all, a tiny scientist from almost-home, the one who infiltrated Hydra and understood mysteries he could never unravel. It seemed to him that she should at least have a shot at getting what she wanted.

Though, of course, he was certain she had no idea what that was.

And then he had one of his terrible, awful ideas that he knew he was going to act on, anyway.

"Do you think," he said, "that it's better this way? I mean, that they're not in love with each other? Now that their secret is out, you're all on an even playing field. And if you and Fitz wanted to . . . you know,  _reconcile_ , Skye won't be standing in the way."

She shook her head with such force that Hunter took a step back.

"Why would I want to reconcile with people who keep secrets from me?"

She finished her question by looking up into his eyes, and Hunter had no answers for her.

But Mack would know what to say, wouldn't he? 

Mack.

As much as Hunter had told Simmons these past few days, she had no inkling of the real secrets that were being kept on this base. But Hunter did. 

And before Bobbi and Mack crushed him the way Fitz and Skye did to Simmons, Hunter was going to find some answers.


	2. Fitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Gossip is the Devil's radio." 
> 
> -George Harrison

Simmons wasn't surprised when Fitz avoided the lab, but she did wonder why Hunter hadn't stopped in to visit. Today of all days, she could use a juicy tidbit or two to keep her going. Coulson wanted her to study the new macromolecules in Skye's DNA, but she would much prefer solving other mysteries, such as who it was that left moldy dishes in the community sink, and whether or not Young would still try to pilfer yogurt that was now under (refrigerated) lock and key.

But, instead, there she was. Forced to focus on the horrors that had become her reality. And, even though it had actually been only a week or so that she'd had Hunter to make those horrors somewhat palatable, the prospect of going on without someone to talk to seemed absolutely abysmal.

But she couldn't find him anywhere, and when she couldn't get Bobbi to spill, she resigned herself to another droll day in the lab.

That is, until she learned that May's ex-husband—a psychologist—was coming in to help Skye. Now, it stood to reason that May would likely be attracted to men who were as tight-lipped as the Cavalry herself, but, at the very least, she would have a colleague to talk shop with. She was ready to jump at the chance.

In the end, however, May's ex didn't have much time or interest in chatting, and she was left alone in the lab . . . with Fitz.

"What are you doing here?"

She immediately regretted the accusatory nature of the question, but she tried not to let it show. Fitz, on the other hand, wouldn't even look at her as he thumbed through files.

"May asked me."

It wasn't much of an answer, and she should have let it go, but she'd grown accustomed to solving these sorts of mysteries over the past few days. Was she curious enough to ignore how angry and hurt she was at his betrayal?

No.

But, in the end, she couldn't ignore the mystery, either.

"What are you working on?" she finally blurted out, earning a side-long glance from her former best friend. He mumbled a reply, and she had to ask him to speak up.

"I said, the ICERS. May wanted me to look them over."

She folded her arms. "You mean, look at my new formula."

He ducked his head and flipped through a few pages. "Yes."

"But it's  _my_  formula, Fitz. Why would—"

"Because Skye shot herself with it."

Simmons flinched. In all the time she'd known him, never once had he spoken with such venom. And he must have known it too, because he stood up, mumbled an apology, and left.

Simmons watched him leave, and wondered when Fitz and May had become so close.

There had to be something she could do.

* * *

Fitz stood up from his desk, sat back down, and stood up again. He really did need more tea if he was going to keep working on the problem; that was a fact. It certainly had nothing to do with the tea's location in the kitchen, which was only a short distance from the lab.

Nope, not at all.

But he had already been in the lab twice that day, and if by some odd coincidence, Jemma  _did_  see him, he wasn't sure what she would do.

So, he headed off to the kitchen, promising himself that he would go straight there and come straight back, and when he heard May and her ex laughing in the aforementioned kitchen, he came to quite the dilemma. With the disturbing sight in front of him, it seemed that the lab was the only viable alternative. He'd simply explain himself as he came in, and hope Jemma would tolerate his presence.

After all, Jemma would understand a tea dilemma, if anyone could.

But when he sneaked into the lab, heading straight for the microwave and avoiding all eye contact, Jemma didn't protest. In fact, she seemed to have forgotten all her hostility, focusing instead on grilling him for details about May and Dr. Garner. As hard as it was to admit, it felt nice to for her to stand close to him again, to discuss theories with her again, even if the theories were less scientific than usual. But even this small bit of heaven ended with an alarm that sent the both of them racing off to help Skye the best way they knew how.

* * *

"I've been thinking about it."

"What?"

The walk back from the Bus (and Skye) had been a silent one, and she wasn't sure if her outburst was helping the situation, or making it worse. But there were times when silence felt like a vice around the throat, and this was one of them.

"The formula, Fitz. For the ICERS. I think I'll shelve the newest batch for now." He looked at her then, with eyes that made her take in a deep breath and let it out. "I think it needs some further testing."

Fitz  _hmmed_ , then watched his feet for a few moments before he said, "We wouldn't want to hurt anyone while we're trying to save the world, would we? Especially if . . ." He paused, and she watched him swallow. "Especially if it was someone we cared about. Like Skye, I mean."

She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips.

"No," she said, "that would not do."

"But, I mean," Fitz continued, "it wouldn't be too bad if it was someone who really deserved it. Someone who stole other people's yogurt, for example." 

Her smile turned into a laugh, and it felt  _good_. 

"How did you know about that?"

Fitz shrugged. "Word travels fast around here."

* * *

Simmons closed her eyes and took a breath as she left Coulson's office. It had been a long day, and surely terrible things had happened, but her gut told her that the worst part of it was yet to come. She swallowed as she entered the lab and found him there.

"So," Fitz asked, straightening his shirt as he stood up, "what did he have to say? Are the compression microfibers enough, or . . . what is it?"

Simmons pursed her lips and dropped her gaze to the floor. "I think," she started, already cursing herself for what she was about to say, "I think that I can manage the rest on my own. Thank you so much for your help."

She avoided his gaze as she brushed past him, bracing herself for what would happen next.

"Oh, so you're cutting me out of it," said Fitz. "That's what you're doing."

It was exactly what she was doing, and the opposite of what she wanted to do, but how could she explain that? How could she say anything without revealing Coulson's orders? Why did things fall apart so quickly, and how could she piece them back together again? 

But she didn't have a chance to think of a solution, or anything to say, because Fitz stormed out, muttering under his breath.

And it was Hunter's fault, really, that she caught herself wondering who Fitz would talk to if he wasn't talking to her.

* * *

Fitz felt the imprint of her hand on his skin, even though it had been a while since she'd reached out for him. He watched her as she dressed Mack's wounds, wondering what it all meant. In the moment, it had been like old times, but quieter—better somehow. She'd grabbed his hand before, in situations that, at the time, had seemed just as dire. But this time, he knew, the meaning was different. It was almost as if—no, he wouldn't even let himself think it. But she seemed to need his friendship, at least, and that must mean that they were still friends.

But if they had been friends this whole time, why did she push him away before?

"He's fine. Just a few scrapes," Jemma said as she reclaimed her place on the floor beside him. Fitz nodded, but couldn't think of anything to say, and after a few awkward moments, she turned to him and asked, "Do you think we can ever trust him again?"

It took Fitz a moment to understand her meaning.

"Mack?"

When she nodded, he shrugged. "I don't know, Jemma. Some people keep too many secrets."

Jemma looked down at her lap, and Fitz instantly knew he'd made a mistake.

"Yeah."

"But I guess I should have known," he quickly said, "seeing as it was him who kept leaving those dishes in the sink."

The complete shift in Jemma's mood was perhaps one of the most beautiful things Fitz had ever seen. She put a conspiratorial hand on his arm.

"You don't say!"

Fitz ducked his head to hide his smile. "I do."

"Well," she said, suddenly thoughtful, "I never would have guessed it. He seems so, I don't know. Responsible."

Fitz shrugged. "I guess he seemed to be a lot of things."

"Yeah," Jemma said again, only this time she was smiling, and when she pulled her knees up and hugged them, he did the same.

For a while they simply sat there, enjoying each other's company even in the midst of chaos, and Fitz became increasingly aware of the fact that if he just leaned a little bit to the left, his hand might brush hers.

Better still, she might not mind.

And that, in itself, seemed to be enough to make the world right.

* * *

Fitz was a bit full of himself, of course, but then, Hunter suspected that he had every right to be. It wasn't every day that someone untrained in the art of evading a tail could get this far. The moment that Mike and Coulson were out of earshot, he leaned over to speak to the man.

"So, you never told us how you managed to steal the Toolbox."

Fitz's smile softened, and Hunter saw his ears turn pink. "I, um, well, Simmons did it, really. She packed it in my bag."

Hunter folded his arms and narrowed his gaze. "She literally packed your bags for you?"

From the noise that escaped Fitz's throat, Hunter guessed that the engineer almost choked on his own spit.

"Well, I mean, I packed my clothes, and . . . um, things. Simmons put the Toolbox in."

"And?"

Fitz ducked his head, smiling. "And a sandwich."

Hunter was more impressed by the minute.

"You got her to make you a sandwich, did you? I could never make Bobbi to make me a sandwich. Or anything, really."

"Well," Fitz protested, "I didn't  _make_  her . . . she, uh, she just did it. You can't make Jemma do anything."

Hunter chuckled at that. And, come to think of it, Fitz didn't look too bad in a suit and glasses. He idly wondered what Simmons would think if she saw him like that. Maybe if he took some pictures without Fitz noticing . . .

"So, Ward, huh?"

Hunter shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about Ward, mate. I'd much rather hear about everything that happened at the Playground, if you don't mind."

And that's all it took to get Fitz to prattle on for a good ten minutes, giving Hunter all the juicy details he craved while providing ample opportunities to take the pictures that he was sure would come in handy later.

* * *

"So it's Carré and Markson that are having the illicit affair, ay?"

Simmons huffed as she helped him limp to towards a cache of medical supplies. "Is that really the proper way to greet someone? And after you've gone missing?"

He tried to stop himself from smiling, and failed. She'd been worrying about him, and not because of his relationship to Bobbi, but because they had somehow managed to actually become friends. He wasn't sure if he could remember the last thing that happened, especially with a SHIELD agent.

"Well," he said, "I'm back now. Not going anywhere soon."

She glared as she directed him to sit on the exam table. "That's what you said the last time."

"Hey," he protested with two hands in the air, "excuse me for being kidnapped. And by my own mate, too. Just goes to show you that there aren't many people you can trust these days."

Simmons nodded in agreement, her eyes fixed on a point across the room, and Hunter wasn't surprised when he followed her line of sight and found Fitz.

"He told me you were brilliant back there. Well, back here, really. Said you were there for him when everything fell apart."

She gave a small, shy smile. "It was the other way 'round."

And then she stared at Fitz again, in a way that made Hunter feel like he was intruding somehow. 

"Ah, well, seems to be a case of 'he said, she said.'"

That made her look up at him, and he wasn't much of an expert on feelings, but he recognized that look in her eyes, the one that came when a person knew what they wanted. He suspected, though, that she was still afraid of getting it.

Well, progress was progress.

And he had no doubt that Fitz and Simmons would figure it out over time, provide they had a push here and there. What was more important is that they were both people he could count on, and who, in turn, could count on each other.

But he groaned internally at his own thoughts. Pretty heavy for a man who'd just been shot.

"So, is it true that you caught them snogging in a storage closet in the middle of the mutiny?"

She stopped dressing his wound to meet his gaze, and then her lips curled into a broad smile before she returned to her work. 

"Carré and Markson? Oh, yes. I don't think they would have noticed me except . . ."

He narrowed his gaze and grinned.

"You screamed, didn't you?"

"What? Wha- of course not. I'm a SHIELD agent, after all."

"Uh huh."

"And head of the science division."

"How could anyone forget?"

She gave him yet another glare before she said, "You know. I think I like it best when we talk about other people."

He almost chuckled at her, but managed to hold it back.

"You know what, Simmons," he said, "I think I know exactly what you mean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to [recoveringrabbit](http://archiveofourown.org/users/recoveringrabbit/pseuds/recoveringrabbit), who helped me brainstorm gossipy topics!
> 
> I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


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